"I guess I did like him a little. I could not help it, Morris. You could
not, either, or any one. I believe Mrs. Woodhull was more than half in
love with him, and she is an old woman compared with me. By the way,
what did she mean by introducing me to him as the daughter of Judge
Lennox? I meant to have asked her, but forgot it afterward. Was father
ever a judge?"

"Not properly," Morris replied. "He was justice of the peace in
Bloomfield, where you were born, and for one year held the office of
side or associate judge, that's all. Few ever gave him that title, and
I wonder at Mrs. Woodhull. Possibly she fancied Mr. Cameron would think
better of you if he supposed you the daughter of a judge."

"That may be, though I do not believe he would, do you?"

Morris did not say what he thought, but quietly remarked, instead: "I
know those Camerons."

"What! Wilford! You don't know Wilford?" Katy almost screamed, and
Morris replied: "Not Wilford, no; but the mother and the sisters were
last year in Paris, and I met them many times."

"What were they doing in Paris?" Katy asked, and Morris replied that he
believed the immediate object of their being there was to obtain the
best medical advice for a little orphan grandchild, a bright, beautiful
boy, to whom some terrible accident had happened in infancy, preventing
his walking entirely, and making him nearly helpless. His name was
Jamie, Morris said, and as he saw that Katy was interested, he told her
how sweet-tempered the little fellow was, how patient under suffering,
and how eagerly he listened when Morris, who at one time attended him,